A Different Way To Say Goodbye
by AMillionMilesAway612
Summary: We have 7,967,232 minutes of happiness in our lifetime, and if anyone deserves them, it's you.


**This is what happens when I pay absolutely no attention to trying to write well. I know it's really not that good and extremely random, but for some reason I just had to write it. **

**Okay, you all know I don't know Degrassi. But if you do, then you're just an idiot =)**

Dear Eli,

The average person lives for approximately 39,836,160 minutes.

During our life, we spend 31,868,928 minutes doing things we don't want to do.

I don't know about you, but that has to be the single most depressing, life-shattering fact I have ever heard in my life. And truth be told I didn't even believe it at first. 80% of our life thrown away in the gutter? 31,868,929 minutes lost from our lives? It seems unrealistic, like a bad nightmare so far-fetched from reality that it's almost comical. But think about it for a second, really think about it. Do we honestly want to be waiting in line to buy our groceries, or paying our taxes, or studying for a chemistry test, or making our bed, or crapping in the toilet, or stopping at a red light? People always talk about how life is a precious gift, one filled with millions of wonders and possibilities, but when you reduce everything to its simplest form, all that's left are these stupid, tedious, pain-in-the-ass things we don't want to do.

In all honesty I have no idea where I'm going with this. Telling you how many minutes are in our lifetime was not part of the plan. But I guess that's what you do to me, Eli. You take the girl who's all about staying on the right sight of the road and swerve her completely off the path. It's always been scary, you know, to venture out into unknown territory where nothing looks slightly familiar. But then I'd look over at you and it was like you were my own personal laughing gas- calming me down and making me numb to all the pain that prodded at my skin.

Sometimes I didn't like what I saw when I went off into your alternate universe. Things were never organized, never out in the open, and I never quite knew where it was that I was walking into. And the territory would grow so dark at times that the only thing I could see was my own hand, clutching yours for dear life. Because I was scared, Eli. I was scared and I was naïve and I was helpless. You had my heart wrapped around your finger and I knew that there was no darkness eternal enough and no wound deep enough to pull me away from you.

I just wish, that during all those times when your own life gave me nightmares, that you would have at least tried to make me feel better. It was like you were blinded by your own eyes, or something. I remember walking down the halls of Degrassi with your arm so possessive over my shoulders, as if a bullet were going to shoot through the walls right at us, and you had to be prepared to throw me away from its path. It was such a silly thing to worry about. You were always silly, though, with all these little nooks and crannies built into your personality, and at first I found them amusing. But time changes a lot, Eli. And after so many months of constant worrying and being slammed into your side, I didn't find those things so funny anymore.

I appreciated you always wanting to protect me, Eli. I really did. But the thing is, you had crappy timing. The only times you would truly try to protect me were when I wasn't even scared.

You've probably been wondering what joint I had to take to write you a letter like this. Surprisingly enough, this is all me. Good old, sober Clare. Just a little woozy from exhaustion.

There are a million reasons why I'm writing this to you. One of them being for the sad fact that I miss talking to you. I miss the sound of your voice and your name on my emergency contact list and drinking grape soda at your house and sleeping in the back of Morty and not brushing my teeth because I don't want to loose the taste of you lips on my tongue. You made me such a weird person. You made me see life through a different eye and find the value of living and not totally hate screamo music.

Throughout the time we were together something inside me shifted. I don't know if I grew up or matured down or just merely moved from left to right, but I'm not the same person I was eight months ago. Sure, I still love Taylor Swift and spend hours studying for a test I would already ace, but there's a layer inside myself that's completely peeled open, newly discovered. So thanks, you know, for making me one step closer to not being a total failure.

Oh, did I tell you that I was watching you yesterday at school? Call me Stalker Angel, but for some reason I couldn't stop starting. And you weren't doing back-flips or singing "Can't Keep My Eyes Off You" on the school bleachers or anything. You were just sitting in the cafeteria, eating an apple, doodling in your navy blue English notebook. I thought back to that day when you convinced me to skip class to work on my essay, and we sat on a bench outside The Dot trying to figure out why I was such a loser. I never told you this, but the entire time we were sitting there my heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, and I could have sworn it was showing through my shirt. Even then, when I didn't even know your middle name or your favorite band, you still managed to make my legs turn to jello. We just had that kind of chemistry from the start, and not many people experience something so incredible. It was kind of awesome.

Unfortunately, most of the time seeing you doesn't bring such a positive impact. Most of the time it doesn't bring a negative impact, either. It's just an impact, forceful enough to throw me to the floor and drag me half way across the universe. It's such an odd sensation, because I'm not being forced into one specific direction. There are a thousand little ropes tied to my body, all pulling into opposite directions, and my body feels as though it's going to rip to pieces.

Every time I see you, I'm stuck between the same two choices- run towards you, or run away from you.

Every time I see you, I choose the latter.

I wish I could tell you my that decision is based upon me wanting you to move on with your life and be happy, but honestly that's not really the truth. I'm a coward- a pathetic, whining, worthless coward. I'm just scared that if I get too close I'll be pulled to your body like a magnet and never have the will to let go. That's how I got so caught up with you in the first place You intrigue me and excite me and infuriate me and confuse me all at once. That's a lot to do a person. Only someone as complicated as you could do that.

I guess the most important reason I'm writing this letter is because I feel like you need to read it. Adam told me what happened. Don't be mad at him, okay? He was really worried about you and he couldn't handle it on his own. I hugged him when he started to cry and just stayed silent. I decided not say "I'm sorry" or "It'll all be okay" because you told me those are the worst things anyone ever wants to hear. So I shut up and let him stain my shirt with tears. I think it helped him. He told me the whole story and I listened, trying not to cry myself when he got to the bad parts.

What you did was really stupid, and I hope you know that. It was selfish and thoughtless and absolutely insane. You probably put your parents through the worst agony of their entire life. You wasted the paramedics' time and took up a room in the hospital. You hurt a lot of people, but worst of all, you set yourself up for a life of being watched like a hawk.

My sister went through the same thing as you. She was raped and kept it a secret until she couldn't handle it anymore. Her friend Manny found her in the girl's locker room shower- wet, crying, and bleeding out of her left wrist. I remember my parents pulling me out of school and my mom screaming for my dad to run all the red lights. I was so terrified because no one would tell me what was going on except that Darcy "had an accident". I thought she was dead.

When we got to the hospital my parents finally told me what happened. They explained how Darcy would have to go through lots of counseling and we all would have sacrifice a large part of our lives to help her get better. I was so young and couldn't comprehend anything, so the only thing I said was "Why do we have to give up so much? It's all her fault."

My mom slapped me for the first and last time of my life that day. None of us have ever been the same since.

What I'm getting at is what you did will affect you and your family for years to come. Even when all seems back to normal, everything set back in its place, there will always be that place in the back of their minds wondering if you're going to do it again. They will always double check your medicine cabinet and try to calculate every word you say to make sure you're not "foreshadowing future events".

My sister still has the scars on her wrist from the day she tried to take her own life. And even though you can't see them, I know you'll always have some, too.

But I'm really glad you're still alive, Eli. I can't imagine a world without an Elijah Goldsworthy in it. And I'm not going to get into a huge speech about how much you mean to everyone and all the love your friends and family have for you, because if you have half a brain you already know that. All I'm going to say is please don't try and kill yourself again.

We have 7,967,232 minutes of happiness in our lifetime, and if anyone deserves them, it's you.

Sincerely,

Clare

**P.S.- THERE WILL BE A SECOND CHAPTER. IT IS NOT IN LETTER FORMAT. IT IS AN ACTUAL SCENE**


End file.
